Sophie Turner’s Trust Review: Game of Thrones Star Evolves Into R-Rated Survival Queen (7.5/10)

Trust opens with Lauren Lane (Turner) fleeing paparazzi after a career-ending scandal, retreating to an isolated woodland cabin owned by her shady manager Darren (Rhys Coiro). The setup screams “woman alone equals bad decisions,” but Turner’s haunted intensity immediately elevates the material—her thousand-yard stare and trembling hands sell Lauren as genuinely broken, not just thriller bait.

When Darren arrives unannounced with his sketchy associate Marcus (Gianni Paolo), the cabin transforms from sanctuary to trap. Trust’s first act masterfully builds domestic tension—awkward small talk laced with subtext, Lauren’s growing unease as alcohol loosens tongues, revealing Darren’s mounting debts and desperation. Carlson Young’s direction shines here: tight closeups on sweating brows, hands gripping glasses too tightly, the cabin’s walls literally closing in frame by frame.

The pivot to violence lands brutally: R-rated practical effects deliver skull-crushing realism as Lauren fights back with fireplace poker, broken bottles, kitchen knives—anything within reach. Turner’s physical commitment impresses; post-motherhood bulk adds authenticity to her desperate swings, sweat-soaked tank tops clinging realistically rather than glamorously. No slow-motion hair flips, just panicked, exhausting combat that leaves everyone bloodied and gasping.

What elevates Trust beyond B-movie territory is its smart subversion of home invasion tropes. Rather than faceless masked intruders, we’re trapped with people Lauren knows—former colleagues, industry contacts—making every betrayal sting deeper. Katey Sagal’s late-arriving Loretta (Darren’s mother) delivers the film’s coldest twist: maternal pragmatism trumps loyalty when money’s involved, her whiskey-slurred “business is business” chillingly matter-of-fact.

The finale trades revenge fantasy for grim reality: Lauren escapes, but scarred—physically hobbling, emotionally hollowed. No triumphant score swell, just Turner’s vacant stare at police lights as ambulance doors close on her battered body. This restraint proves Trust’s maturity; Lauren survives, but victory tastes like trauma. Hollywood’s scandal machine will churn on, her “comeback” tainted by blood money settlements.

Technically, Trust punches above weight: Isom Innis’ throbbing electronic score amplifies cabin claustrophobia without overplaying dread. Cinematographer’s shallow depth of field keeps focus razor-sharp on faces during confrontations, backgrounds blurring into woodland menace. Mexico City locations sell remote isolation despite budget constraints.

Supporting cast elevates: Rhys Coiro’s Darren balances sleazy charm with genuine pathos—we understand his desperation even as we dread his snap. Billy Campbell’s Peter provides grounded authority; Peter Mensah’s Kroft delivers one devastating action beat. Everyone serves Turner’s arc without stealing focus.

Criticisms land fairly: 25% Rotten Tomatoes reflects pacing lulls in setup, some plot conveniences (cell service dying exactly when needed). Genre fans will spot familiar beats—cabin isolation, trusted ally betrayal—but execution mostly transcends cliche through character investment.

Trust marks Sophie Turner’s evolution from fantasy princess to gritty survivor, proving Paramount+ houses genuine thrillers amid franchise fatigue. Perfect 90-minute binge for fans craving practical-effects violence, authentic scares, and a leading lady finally unleashed. Stream now—doors lock automatically.